


Cinderoswald

by angelsandbrowncoats



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Cinderella Elements, F/M, M/M, Panic Attacks, References to physical abuse, a sappy ending if you ask me, discussion of arranged marriage, i'll be posting a chapter every day in case anyone's wondering, references to cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-09 06:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11098395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot has lost his inheritance to his cruel step-family after the deaths of both parents.Crown Prince Edward has one last chance to find love before his parents arrange a marriage for him, something he dreads.But when Edward trips over Oswald while fleeing the ball held in his honor, perhaps things will start looking up.





	1. A Messenger Arrives

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be honest, we were all thinking it during the step-family episodes. I just had to write it.
> 
> Also that kinda creepy band Oomph! has a song that is so damn close to this where Cinderella fucking lights the place on fire and they're all screaming and she just stands there like, "Shouldn't have treated me like that, bitch," and if that isn't Oswald...

They had been nice, for the most part, before his father's death. He knew, now, that this had been but an act, and yet he knew not what he should do. They were the only one's he had left. His mother - dead in his arms. His father the same. No friends to speak of. So here he stayed, allowing his stepmother and step-siblings to disrespect him in every way possible, simply because he didn't know what else to do.

"Don't forget to wash my dress and clean the chicken coop when you're done preparing our light snack," Sasha called over her shoulder as she and Charles retreated to the family room where Oswald once played board games with his father. He nodded hastily in case she's watching - he'd been struck over less - and hurriedly finished folding the linens so that he can begin on some small sandwiches for them. He hardly remembered that time, way back when there were people who cared about him. What had it felt like? His mother dancing, a soothing bath, his father's comforting hugs, the memories of a happier time slipped through his fingers like water.

He endured their taunts as he delivered the platter of snacks with a small bow and hastily retreated to the yard. At least among the birds he may find peace, even if it came at the price of having to scrub bird shit off wood panels.

Due to his proximity to the street, Oswald was the first to see the messenger, bearing the royal mark of King Everett.

"Hello, there!" the messenger greeted him and he nodded in return, "A message from the king! In three night's time, the king and queen shall be hosting a ball in honor of the crown prince. Since their eldest, the princess, has recently become engaged to a knight from a neighboring realm, they have decided that he must find his own match. Anyone wishing to offer their suit may attend the ball, even a servant such as yourself."

Oswald didn't bother to correct the man. He was (half) descended from a noble bloodline, even if his money had been stolen, but at this point his dignity had been dragged in the mud so why not his name as well.

"Thank you, sir, I shall be sure to pass this message on to the rest of the household," he assured the messenger.

"Wonderful! Fare thee well, lad," the man said, before signalling for his driver to move them on again.

"Oswald?" Grace was at the door, "What was that commotion I just heard?"

"A messenger, ma'am, from the king. He is hosting a ball three nights from now to find a match for the prince, and he is inviting the entire kingdom, down to the lowliest peasant."

"Oh? Isn't that nice. Sasha? Charles?" she called back into the house. Within moments, the two had appeared.

"Yes, mother?"

"Prepare your best outfits. The king is hosting a ball and between the two of you, I think one of you should manage to charm the prince. I've heard he's quite an awkward, scatterbrained sort. It wasn't too difficult to work our way into this level of society, what is one more step up? Besides, I can't wait to get rid of this lazy servant," she gestured at Oswald again, "Boy! Why are you standing there? Don't you have work to do?"

"Of course, ma'am," he bowed again, "I was simply wondering if you would permit me to attend?"

"Absolutely not!" Charles exclaimed, Sasha nodding vehemently at his side.

"Wait," Grace held up a hand, "I think we might appear more impressive with a sniveling little servant to carry out our every whim, don't you? We can dress him up like a proper servant and then we shan't have to worry about things like our coats or getting drinks."

"Hmm, I suppose," Sasha tilted her head at him, trying to decide whether it would be better to have him in modern or outdated servant's attire. Charles still seemed upset, "I don't see why he should be allowed out of the house. What if someone were to recognize him as the blood heir? We shouldn't take risks like that."

"Please, who would look at this scrawny, frankly disgusting thing and think, 'Oh, that must be a noble's son,'? He practically _screams_ servant."

"I guess..."

"Well, that's settled then. Chop, chop, Oswald, get to work, you'll need to make time for helping us with our outfits now, too."


	2. No Future, No Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Ed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for brief discussion of non-con in the context of arranged marriages
> 
> Sorry if Ed & Babs are a bit ooc, I'm mixing their personalities from the different seasons, not to mention that in the show they're both only children but here they're siblings. I tried to keep them as accurate as possible.

Edward was the second child of the king and queen, but he was the first son. That made him heir. Unfortunately, he was not very... _kingly_. He'd always been thin and ever since his growth spurt, gangly. His eyesight was terrible, as were his skills in combat. Horses were not his friends, either. To top it all off, he was scholarly, obsessed with knowledge, and completely awkward in a conversation. He didn't seem to have a single royal bone in his body.

His lack of command did not go unnoticed by his parents, and they did not attempt to hide their disappointment. His sister was every part the princess, although she was closer to him than either was to their parents. Barbara may have known how to act in public, but she and Ed could admit to each other that there was a rage boiling beneath the surface in both of them.

"Hey, Eddie," Barbara stuck her head around his door, "You almost ready?"

"Yeah. To run away."

"C'mon, Ed," she let herself in, closing the door behind her, "It's just a ball. Are you not even dressed yet?"

"No," he sighed, "because it doesn't matter how I look, I'll still be a disappointment anyway. Just make sure you're amazing, as usual, and hopefully no one will pay me any mind."

Barbara scoffed, "Ed, darling, you're the crown prince and this is a ball to find you a partner. _Everyone_ is going to be paying attention to you!"

"Why?"

"They'll be trying to win your hand! Duh!" she pulled him out of the chair he was currently occupying, "Now you just leave your appearance to me and I'll make sure you're so regal their brains will melt out their ears and we can finally be rid of them."

Ed smiled a little at that, even as he protested, "Can't I hide up here the whole time?"

"Absolutely not. This is your party, little brother, get used to it."

She frowned around his room, hands on her hips, "So did you seriously not get the tailor to make you something or is it that you didn't pick it up?"

"I may or may not have lit his notes on fire when they dragged me down to see him," Ed mumbled. Barbara closed her eyes, laughter at the image combating frustration at Ed's lack of appreciation for good clothes, "Okay, so let's try something else."

Ed peered over her shoulder, curious in spite of himself, as she rummaged through his wardrobe. Finally her hand stilled over a green silk tunic, lined with gold.

"It's a bit gaudy," she pursed her lips as she pulled it out and examined it, "but I suppose it will have to do."

She continued to search, eventually extracting the matching leggings and a dark green cape.

"There," she gestured at the arrangement she'd laid out, "you can even use it as camouflage and hide in the rose garden if you want."

Once Ed had donned the outfit (and maybe he appreciated the gaudiness, not that he'd tell Barbara), she accosted him with accessories from his ceremonial sword to royal purple gloves to more rings than could fit on both his hands combined. When she finally relented, putting the final touches to his new "royal" appearance by styling back his hair and allowing him to pull on a dark pair of boots, Ed almost couldn't recognize himself in the mirror.

"See, I told you I'd make you regal," Barbara cooed, enamored less with him than herself for causing such a transformation, "Have fun, baby bro. I'm off to find Jim."

"Wait - "

By the time he'd turned around, she'd already gone. He glanced back at his reflection. He almost did look the part of a prince, for the first time in his life. Maybe he could do this.

"It's only one night," he muttered to himself.

"A lot can happen in one night," he countered, falling back on his nervous habit of analyzing a situation via a conversation with the only reasonable person in any room: himself.

"All I have to do is stand around, maybe dance. Be myself and maybe they'll all leave me alone. Mother and Father would _love_ that."

"And like she said, I could always hide in the garden."

~ ~ ~

He stood on a balcony over the ballroom, watching the crowds pour in. Despite the invitation extending to people of all classes, there was no equality to be seen in the room. Tables covered every inch of the ballroom; they would be cleared away when the food was done and the dancing would begin. The tables further from the door were filled with the wealthy while those near it held peasants. Servants did not sit at all, standing along the wall behind their masters, waiting for orders to be barked at them.

Ed scanned the crowd, searching for something he couldn't name. The peasants had no manners to speak of, but at least they appeared to be enjoying themselves. The nobles were gossiping, biting at each other's throats, and it struck Ed that many were arguing over _him_.

Well, not exactly.

He wasn't fool enough to think that a single one of them had any interest in him whatsoever. No, it was his position as crown prince that they coveted. Every single noble in the kingdom saw this as an opportunity to jump up a level. At least most of the peasants thought nothing of their chances and had come for the food more than to manipulate him.

His fingers tightened around the balcony rail, knuckles whitening as he felt his stomach churn and bile raise in his throat. _God_. His breathing grew heavy and intense as he attempted to push the panic and nausea down with minimal success. He was looking at the faces of a hundred people who wanted to _use_ him. People who saw him as an object to be won. They would have just as soon killed him as married him to get his position. His overactive imagination played out scenarios enough for all of them, but they all brought him back to the same awful outcomes.

If he chose no one, his parents would choose for him, for the kingdom needed heirs. But no matter who he chose, it wouldn't matter. No one in the sea of people below him cared, and he would have to live the rest of his life with one of them. He would have to spend years at the side of someone who would probably hate him, only tolerating him for the power that he possessed. And the physical aspect...

Ed hated physical contact with strangers. Or people he disliked. Which was almost everyone (Barbara he tolerated, and her fiance, Jim, but that was it). His marriage was necessary for many reasons, but not least among them was the conception of heirs, which required _extremely_ intimate physical contact, the thought of which made his skin crawl. The thought of being constantly around someone who was only using him for power was bad enough, but the thought that they would touch him made him feel violated, though the act had yet to come to pass. His chest heaved as he fought down the urge to vomit. Or cry.

He closed his eyes to the room and was shocked to see a mental image of the only person he'd ever cared for. Kristen Kringle, a maid with a fiery spirit who had warmed to his advances after over a year of pursuing her. But when his parents had discovered them, they'd seen her hanged for seducing him, despite his protestations and pleas. They'd even made him watch.

A sob escaped his lips and he covered his face, even as his darker side laughed at the fact that the same parents who'd executed his first love to keep him away from the lower classes had invited everyone down to the lowliest peasant to try for his hand. Two years was a long time, and they must have given up on him. Or maybe it was an act to gain the support of the people and if Ed chose someone of low status, they'd force him to marry whoever they preferred.

"Your Highness," a voice spoke behind him and he turned, trying to school his face back into a neutral expression. Captain Essen stood behind him, looking formal and reserved in her dress uniform.

"Yes?"

"It's time for you to make your entrance."

Ed gulped, taking one last deep breath before throwing himself straight into the pits of hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They meet in the next chapter I swear
> 
> I also wanted to work in some background for Ed's anxiety, so I hope that came across well enough.


	3. Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our boys meet

"It is my pleasure tonight to introduce to you all: His Royal Highness, Prince Edward of Gotham!"

The curtains were drawn back and Ed stepped forward, keeping his head high but his gaze unfocused so as not to make eye contact with anyone by mistake. Clapping erupted in the hall, but Ed tuned it out. It was for his station, not for him.

Slowly, he ascended to his seat at the high table, for once seated in the center as he was the host, not his parents. They would be watching the proceedings from somewhere else, refusing their presence to the grovelers and beggars alike. Essen was to his left while Barbara sat at his right, with Jim at hers. That was the extent of people he knew in the room. He'd made it a point not to get to know anyone after Kristen, for fear of what might befall them if he got too close.

The conversation was lacking, to say the least. Barbara occupied Jim's attention as did he hers, leaving Ed to speak with Essen. She was kind enough, although her interests beyond the safety of the kingdom were few. They managed well enough when Ed offered up his knowledge on the local flora as a means of advancing their weaponry but eventually they fell silent.

At least the bread was warm.

~ ~ ~

The tables had been cleared in a combined effort of all the servants and a band had taken up residence on the raised platformed. Ed stayed in the shadows during this occurrence, which is where Barbara found him, hands on her hips again.

"You have to kick off the dancing, you know. It's _your_ ball," she told him.

"With whom?"

"Look, I'll dance with you for the first one if you're really that unwilling. You _have_ to be out there, though."

"Fine."

"But I'm dancing the rest with Jim."

She dragged him out onto the floor, looking graceful enough for the both of them as she pretended Ed was leading.

"You're doing great," she smiled, twirling around twice before returning to the default waltz stance, "Now you just have to do this but with someone else."

"No."

She sighed and shook her head. As they danced, other people had joined them, filling the floor with spinning couples. Once there were enough to safely cover his escape, he fled to the edge of the room. Barbara rolled her eyes and went to find her fiance.

Ed kept his head down, trying to snake through the crowd of onlookers unnoticed. He was going with the rose garden plan. Definitely the best idea either of them had had all day.

Just as he neared the back door, he misjudged his depth (something he often did, which added to his difficulties in combat) and slammed into someone much shorter than himself.

The other person fell to the ground and Ed only barely managed to catch himself on the wall to avoid falling on top of him. He glanced down and saw red stains seeping across the other man's shirt. In his momentary panic he assumed the worst.

"Oh my god, are you okay? Are you hurt? Is that blood?" He knelt beside the man hands fluttering as he tried to discern the cause of the injury.

The man on the ground groaned, eyes squeezed shut, "I don't think there's any blood. Just my bad leg that's hurt."

"Then what's on your shirt?"

The man looked down and sighed, "Wine. I'll be beaten for that, probably."

"For what?" Ed blinked.

"For ruining this shirt. For spilling the wine. Does it matter?"

"Yes, because it was my fault," Ed insisted, mouth twisting into a frown. His parents beat their servants for insubordination as well and it was awful.

He should know. They'd done it to him, too, when he didn't meet their standards.

"They won't care," the man replied as he tried awkwardly to stand without putting any weight on one of his legs.

"Here, let me help," Ed held out a gloved hand and the servant took it, gratefully, climbing slowly to his feet before finally looking up and immediately doing a double take.

"You- You're the prince!"

"Er, well, um, yes?" Ed stuttered, feeling put on the spot at the change in demeanor.

The man bowed hurriedly, "I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize you. I won't keep you from..." he trailed off looking around in confusion, "What were you doing?"

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth, presumably to take back the question which would have seemed improper to anyone who actually cared about rank. Ed cut him off before he could, cursing his compulsion to tell the truth, "I was trying to escape outside."

The man blinked at him, "From your own party?"

"I didn't exactly ask to be here," Ed muttered. He met the other man's eyes and noticed they had a certain intelligence to them that he rarely saw in others. Intriguing.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I asked for your name?"

Again the man blinked at him, "Oswald Cobblepot, your Highness."

"Ah," Ed nodded, continuing to nod for far too long.

Eventually Oswald sighed, "I should really be getting back. I'll be in enough trouble as it is - "

"Don't," Ed let the word slip out before he had time to think about it.

"Sorry?"

"Please, stay," he whispered. What were the chances he would have found someone who was willing to talk to him like a person? He couldn't give that up. Oswald wasn't buttering him up, nor was he uncultured. He was a servant, so Ed would have to be careful not to favor him too much, but surely a little indulgence in tolerable company couldn't hurt?

"I- I- I mean, sure, I guess," Oswald was staring at him in confusion and perhaps concern.

Ed shrugged, "It's just, you're refreshing compared to these morons," he waved dismissively at the rest of the crowd. The corner of Oswald's mouth twitched, a half smirk forming even as his sharp eyes warmed slightly.

"You don't like them?"

"Not at all. They're like vultures. No, I'm sorry, that's unfair to vultures."

Oswald laughed lightly at that and Ed found himself enamored. His laugh was charming, sweet, but with a distinctly cruel undertone. Enchanting.

"Hey," he licked his lower lip nervously, internally telling himself to shut up and not listening, "I serve a similar purpose to skin, but I am not alive. What am I?"

He was met with a blank stare and he felt his heart sink. It had been to much to hope that -

"Clothes? Was that a riddle?"

Ed felt his face split into a grin, unable to stop himself as he nodded, "Yes! On both accounts. Do you like riddles?"

"Not - not particularly," Oswald shrugged, "I suppose they can be diverting, on occasion, though."

"Oh. Okie dokie," he took a breath to realign his chaotic thoughts, "Um, so since I ruined your clothes the least I can do is get you some new ones. If you don't mind?"

"I- not at all. Thank you?" Oswald looked as if he were having a revelation. Like he couldn't believe Ed would be so generous.

"Not at all. Follow me," Ed replied, curling his fingers into Oswald's sleeve before he could second guess himself. He led Oswald up to the sitting room in his quarters, leaving him there as he went to look for his older clothes that had been made before his growth spurt.

"I'm afraid I don't have access to servant's clothes. Unless you wanted to help me steal some, which could be fun I suppose. Otherwise you're welcome to take these," he spoke as he reemerged, carrying a dark black-and-purple suit he'd never had the chance to wear.

Nodding gratefully, Oswald stepped into a side chamber to change out of his ruined uniform. When he returned, Ed gasped, quickly covering his mouth with his hand.

"What?"

"You - You don't look out of place at all. The clothes fit you perfectly. You could pass as a noble any day."

Oswald glanced up at him, twiddling his fingers.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes," Oswald answered, breathing deep, "I... I should tell you. I _am_ a noble. I'm not a servant."

Ed stopped short, "What? Then why were you dressed like that? And why were you taking someone wine?"

"My father... he came from a noble line. But my mother did not. That didn't matter to them, but when she died... he married a wealthier woman, with two children. He died recently, and they claimed my inheritance for their own. I had no one to go to, so I stayed on to act as their servant. They've taken everything that should have been mine save for my name and my blood, yet I cannot bring myself to turn on them and be alone once more."

Floored by this new information, Ed gaped at him, "You mean to say you are beaten and mistreated by the very thieves that robbed you of your chance at happiness? What cruel joke is this?"

"It is the truth. Besides, I have never been well known or liked. Who would believe my claim if I were to press it?"

"I would," Ed breathed out instantly, "You know me now. You can take everything you deserve back from them. Make them pay for their treachery. I'll back you."

"That's very kind of you," Oswald inclined his head, "but there is yet one more thing that stays my hand."

"Oh? What?"

"My father's memory. If he truly did care for his wife and her children as he seemed to, he would not appreciate my defaming them. And I love him too dearly to do that to him."

Ed hummed, "And you think he _would_ approve of their behavior towards you?"

"Well, _no_ , but I think he could forgive it. He's a forgiving sort."

"But he wouldn't forgive you?"

Oswald shifted uncomfortably, "He has already forgiven me for more than I deserve. This would be one step too far."

"Ah. I see."

He really didn't.

"So, um, I let you move without taking you anywhere. I have as many forms as combat but mine are designed for style rather than function. What am I?"

Oswald reached forward this time, finally confident that he would not be rebuked, and said, "Of course I'll dance with you, your Highness."

The smile from earlier curled at Ed's lips as he took Oswald's hand and led him back to the ballroom.

"Are you any good?" he asked, suddenly concerned that he may be about to inadvertently embarrass him in front of a crowd.

Oswald scoffed, "I'm a marvelous dancer, thank you very much. My mother taught me when I was young. She always loved a good dance."

"Good. I've never been too skilled, myself," Ed shrugged, "Part of the whole 'uncoordinated' thing, I suppose. Would you mind leading?"

"Would I mind?" Oswald parroted, "Shouldn't _you_ mind? You're the one everyone will be watching."

"They already know I'm awkward and... weak," Ed mumbled, "What's a little socially constructed symbolism going to hurt?"

"Fair enough," Oswald replied, switching their positions so that his hand was on Edward's waist rather than his shoulder, "But this may be more awkward anyhow, given your height."

"We'll manage," Ed said, allowing himself to take in the music, counting beats and steps while keeping his eyes on Oswald's face. The first thing he'd learned about dancing was to not look at his feet. They made it through the first few minutes with no serious issues, electing to ignore the twirls that would have been difficult on the both of them.

"Your leg isn't hurting you, is it?"

"Not terribly."

"That's good."

A silence fell between them and Ed was amazed to find that it wasn't at all awkward. No, this silence was more of the peaceful variety. Perhaps, he thought, this is what contentment feels like.

Of course, this was not to last.


	4. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald wishes he had more time, but he doesn't

Oswald was still unsure as to how he had come to be dancing with the crown prince himself. The man was a marvel in the flesh - not only jaw droppingly gorgeous, but adorably awkward and also, Oswald felt, something of a kindred spirit. It was difficult to imagine what troubles the crown prince might have, but clearly there was something wrong in his life. And he had been so kind, even when he thought Oswald to be far beneath him...

His good foot nudged Ed's as the prince almost lost the rhythm of the dance, _again_. He pressed lightly on Ed's hand where it was clasped in his, indicating another half turn, pulling at his waist with the same gentle force. Ed recovered well enough from each near stumble, the flaws imperceptible to the rest of the crowd, given away only by the blush that would dust his cheeks at each mistake. Oswald wanted to lay a hand on his face, let the heat seep into his own flesh. He wanted to reassure Ed that he was doing fine, that he didn't need to be embarrassed - good dancing require practice, after all. But he knew, even with his status as a noble now known, these actions would be far too forward. Perhaps a word of encouragement would suffice?

"You know, I don't know what had you so concerned," he began, "You may not be a master of dance, but you're certainly one of the best partners I've ever had."

It wasn't technically a lie. Not a lot of people wanted to dance with Oswald, not that Ed needed to know.

Unfortunately, his compliment seemed to have the opposite effect. Ed's blush had only deepened and he seemed to struggle to form words. He looked positively radiant, Oswald mused, an angel, but without the irritating self-righteousness.

The thought came to him that Ed might be the Angel of Death, but he pushed it aside. Not everyone was as morbid as he was, certainly not shy princes. But somehow, as he stood there with Ed all but in his arms, it didn't matter that Ed was too nice for a person like him, whose dark desires had clouded his youth and had only been held at bay by the deaths of his parents. Ed never needed to know that part of him, since it was unlikely they'd see each other after this night. No, for a few long hours he had been able to pretend he was someone normal, someone of interest to the crown prince, and he would cherish each and every one of these moments forever.

"Oswald? Oswald, where are you?" the voice shattered his reverie and he flinched at the shrillness of it. As he did so, he felt Ed's hand clench around his shoulder, near painful in its grip. He met the prince's dark eyes to find concern pooling in their depths.

"Is that one of them?" he whispered. Oswald gave a single, slight nod.

"Keep dancing," Ed suggested, "If she tries to interrupt, I can have her hanged for offending me."

"You're too kind," Oswald responded, "but perhaps we should lose ourselves in the crowd. I think I'd better return home early so that I can change into something else. They're not that bright. I'm sure I can fool them."

"If you must," Ed agreed reluctantly, "Anything you want."

Oswald smiled at him in response, a soft smile that reached his eyes. Ed may not have known him for long, but he could tell it was something unique. Intimate, in its own way.

He continued to waltz until they reached the edge of the crowd, far from Grace's prying eyes but still within earshot as she continued searching for him. Ed tugged lightly on his arm, guiding him to the side where a secret chamber used primarily by servants lay waiting.

"C'mon, this way."

Oswald allowed himself to be led through the tunnels, wondering why Ed seemed so familiar with them but too preoccupied with escaping his step-family's wrath to ask.

"I'll take you down to the stables," Ed was saying, hands moving fast in sweeping gestures, "My sister's fiance was accompanied by his... loyal friend. We're not on the best of terms but I outrank him and he would never risk Jim's image. He had no interest in an event this formal, so he should be available to take you wherever you need to go.

"Thank you, friend," Oswald said, emotion coloring his voice stronger than he'd allowed it to since his father's death.

"Like I said, anything you want. Anything you need, too."

They rounded the bend in the path and came up abruptly as they ran into a man whom Oswald presumed to be Sir Gordon's friend.

"Sir Bullock," Ed inclined his head.

The knight grimaced before bowing, "Your Highness."

"I know we are far from friends, but I would ask a favor of you."

He raised an eyebrow at that.

"Please escort my friend here to whatever location he gives you and, should anyone ask, you never saw him."

The man's other eyebrow went up to join the first, but he said, "Anything in it for me?"

"This was an order, not a suggestion, but I suppose I might be persuaded to 'order' you out on a hunt the next time a less pleasant duty arises."

"Alright, alright. Hop on, kid," the knight patted the saddle of one the horses he was leading. Oswald, who had been momentarily distracted by the way Ed commanded himself and the situation at hand, glared at him.

Ed moved forward with a sort of fluid grace that he'd lacked only moments prior, spite granting him confidence as he offered his hand to Oswald to assist him. Oswald took it gratefully, being hindered both by his leg and his stature.

"I won't forget you," Ed whispered in his ear as he helped him and Oswald felt a mournful smirk emerge on his face, "Nor I you."

Sir Bullock swung himself up onto the other horse and nudged it forward as Ed backed away, eyes still locked on Oswald.

As he rode away he glanced back one last time to see the prince still there, nearly hidden among the trees and grasses, and he sighed. That was the end of it, he supposed.


	5. Indecision & Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has some decisions to make

When Ed returned to the ballroom he was intercepted by a young woman. She wore the same expression he often saw on hunters moments before they cornered their prey.

"Prince Edward," she grabbed his hand before he could protest, "How lovely it is to meet you at last. I've been wishing and wishing with all my heart that I would have the chance to dance with you this evening."

As if for emphasis she placed his hand on her chest, over her heart, while fluttering her eyelashes.

"Excuse me, I - " he began, fighting the urge to shove her off violently, knowing that would cause a scene.

"You want to dance with me? Of course! I'd love to!" she exclaimed dragging him towards the dance floor.

She was stronger than she looked and he struggled to escape her iron grip.

"Just one dance, darling," she cooed, placing his other hand on her hip and running a hand over his cheekbone. He twisted back and away, breaking her hold at last and taking a few hasty steps back.

"I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well this evening," he said stiffly, "I must leave."

She looked like she was about to pursue him when the woman who had been screaming for Oswald earlier appeared at her side.

"Sasha? Have you seen Oswald? That useless freak appears to have left us to fend for ourselves, would you believe it?"

A boy at her elbow rolled his eyes, "I _told_ you bringing him was a bad idea."

Ed's fingers clenched into fists at his side. So _this_ was the family that had mistreated Oswald. His fingers itched to cover their throats, pressing down until they had no more oxygen left. What horrible people.

He shook his head. It would do no one any good to commit murder in the middle of a celebration held in his honor. He would simply have to fall back on his original plan of hiding. At least most of the night had been pleasantly spent.

~ ~ ~

"So, Eddie," Barbara dropped herself into one of his armchairs, "Spill."

"I'm afraid I've no idea what you mean," Ed replied primly.

"Everybody saw you with that interesting fellow, Ed. They all came to dance with you, to seduce you, and you spent essentially the entire time with one guy? And to top it all off no one seems to know who the hell he was? This is the juiciest gossip we've had around here since _I_ had a secret admirer. So spill."

"And if I tell you there's nothing more to say? He was acceptable company in a room full of cruel idiots, that's all."

"Then I call bullshit, Eddie, because I _know_ you. I know you wouldn't let mere 'acceptable company' put their hands on you, and most importantly, _I know your tailor_."

Ed froze.

"Oh yeah, I noticed. How exactly did Mr. 'acceptable company' come to be wearing one of your old suits?"

"I knocked him over and got wine on what he was wearing. Are you satisfied?"

"Hmm," she narrowed her eyes at him, "You seem to be telling the truth. But no, I'm not. C'mon, what's his name? What's he like? Where's he from? A girl wants to know!"

"Fine! His name is Oswald, he seems nice enough and more intelligent than average, and if you must know he said he was a noble whose inheritance had been stolen."

"Ooh," Barbara leaned forward, "Now that _is_ good. Are you gonna get it back for him? Be his knight in shining armor?"

Ed blinked, "I... I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well do you like him?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I think so?"

"Then what better way to get him? He'll fall in love with you without a doubt and then you can be happy and our parents can be - well, not _happy_ , but whatever it is that they can be - and everything will work out great."

Ed sat up, "You're right. Oh my god, how could I have not seen it? I need to find him."

"Well, what noble family is he from?"

That gave him pause, "He said he was called Cobblepot, but I don't think that's a noble family. It must be his mother's name. His relatives probably wouldn't let him have his father's name. Cretins."

"All you have is his mother's name? You've got your work cut out for you. But I guess you always did like a puzzle, didn't you?"

"Well, that and Sir Bullock."

"Harvey? What about him?"

"I had him escort Oswald home so that he could prepare for his step-family's anger."

"So in the morning, go and ask him where he took your groom-to-be."

"You know, I think I will."

~ ~ ~

Breakfast was tense to say the least. The king and queen sat stiffly at the head of the table, picking at the small feast laid out before them.

"So, Edward, have you chosen a spouse?" the queen asked after a time.

Ed hurriedly swallowed the toast he'd been eating, "Yes, actually. Well, I think so. I'm going to check today."

"Oh?" she arched a delicate eyebrow, "I must say, I'm surprised."

"I hope they are suitable?" his father interjected. Ed kept his eyes lowered, staring at a bowl of fruit a few feet in front of him, the fingers of his left hand squeezing the base of his goblet hard enough he feared it might break, "He's a noble, if that's what you mean."

"He?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's hardly traditional, but I suppose it must do," the queen tsked, "Is he fit for the regal life?"

"I should think so," Ed bit back, "Now if you'll excuse me, I must seek him out this morning. Good day."

He shoved his plate away, standing abruptly and striding out of the hall with more confidence than he felt. As he exited the main hall doors, he passed another daily event that made his face pinch in distaste. The servants were throwing the soggy and moldy trenchers at the beggars, as they did on a regular basis, despite the castle being filled with more perfectly good food than its occupants could ever consume.

A small comfort came to him in the form of a thought. One day, he would be King, and when he was he swore he would tear down centuries old traditions in favor of _actual intelligence._

He found Sir Bullock in the barracks courtyard, sharpening his axe on a whetstone.

"Excuse me."

Sir Bullock looked up, face falling as he saw who had interrupted him.

"Yeah, what?"

"No need to get snippy," Ed held up his hands, "I was wondering where Oswald directed you to last night."

"Who?"

Ed frowned at him, "Oswald? Oswald Cobblepot? The friend of mine I had you drop off last night?"

Sir Bullock squinted up at the sky before shaking his head, "Can't say I recall anyone of that description."

Ed's frown deepened before the lines on his face smoothed back in irritated realization, "Bullock, when I said, 'should anyone ask, you never saw him,' I was not including myself as 'anyone'. Now you will tell me or I shall order a search of your quarters and I don't think the King and Queen would be overly pleased with the contents. Are we clear?"

The knight grimaced again, his default expression when dealing with Ed, "Yeah, yeah. He went to the Van Dahl manor, about six miles southeast of the city."

"Van Dahl? His father was Elijah van Dahl?" Ed asked, more to himself than Harvey, "I remember him. He didn't come to court often, but he was decent. I hadn't heard he was dead."

"It wasn't that long ago," Bullock interrupted and Ed jumped, remembering he was in public, "Something to do with his heart I think. It was sudden but he'd been fading for years."

"Ah. Of course. Thank you," Ed nodded at him in dismissal, heading back to call one of the carriages. He would have preferred to go alone, but his skills as a rider had not improved in the last five years much less the last 24 hours and he valued speed above privacy at this juncture.

The coachman hurried to lower the step for him, bowing as he asked, "Where to, your Highness?"

"The Van Dahl manor. With haste."

"At once, your Highness."


	6. Knightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed reaches the Van Dahl Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I'm as easily won over by compliments as my murder boys...  
> Here's a second piece up today, albeit a short one.  
> Enjoy the ending ;)

  
The journey, which would have taken upwards of five hours on foot, was covered in less than one by carriage, especially when one's carriage bore the royal insignia. The town gave way to fields which gave way to stately (if slightly unkempt) gardens leading up to a towering mansion. The Van Dahl Estate.

Edward's hands tightened around the letter he'd drafted the night before, declaring the Van Dahl inheritance Oswald's by right, and the dagger he'd brought in case extra force became necessary.

"The Van Dahl manor, your Highness," the coachman bowed again as he placed the step once more. Ed climbed out of the carriage, looking around appreciatively at the architecture. This place had been built by someone with at least some semblance of taste.

He strode up to the large wooden door, flanked by the coachman and what he supposed was a bodyguard. The bronze knocker sent heavy vibrations through the door as he lifted and dropped it twice in succession.

Moments passed as he waited for a response, shifting his weight back and forth in a fit of nerves. What if Oswald didn't appreciate his gesture? What if Oswald didn't want to see him at all? What if Oswald had never been real?

No that was ridiculous. Sir Bullock had known who he was referring to, after all.

He jumped up, correcting his waning posture as the door creaked open. Oswald peered out from behind the door, suspicious. When he caught sight of Ed his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. Ed took a step forward, "Oswald! It's you."

"Yes, it's me," Oswald replied, still appearing downright flabbergasted.

"Can I come in?"

"I - oh - um - I suppose," Oswald opened the door further by an inch, "I can't exactly turn the crown prince away. But you might prefer to talk in the garden?"

"Not at all. What I have to say concerns your step-family as well."

Oswald froze and his expression dropped slightly, "Are you certain? I'm afraid they're rather... indisposed at the moment."

"Well, as you said, I'm the crown prince. They can't turn me away."

The man in front of him took a long, deep breath, "Well I guess there's nothing for it. But, could your entourage stay outside, if you don't mind?"

"Of course. I'm not sure what they're doing here anyway," Ed turned to his guard, "Stay with the equipage, if you don't mind. This is a private matter."

They nodded, returning to the carriage and taking up their stances.

Oswald finally opened the door wide enough for Ed to enter.

"I have to tell you something - " Oswald began, but Ed waved him off, "No, no. Let me deal with my business first. Then you shall have all the time in the world to tell me things. Now where are your relatives?"

"Through there," Oswald pointed at the grand double doors to his left, "But - "

Ed swept past him, long legs crossing the distance too swiftly for Oswald to halt him. He flung the doors open.

Ed tripped over his own feet.

" - about that..." Oswald sighed, forcing his feet forward as he walked up behind Ed.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virtual cake for whoever can spot the AP English meme


	7. The Dark at the End of the Tunnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed has a question for Oswald, who is only too happy to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter without the promised attempt at a sappy ending. 
> 
> Warning for (canonical) death of a dog, although I tried my damnedest to soften the blow  
> (i mean there's definitely murder of people too, but that's par for the course with Nygmobblepot so it hardly garners a warning)

The decapitated head of Grace van Dahl gaped hideously at him from the end of the long dining table. What he presumed to be her body was slumped in the chair behind it, angled away from the feast that had been artfully arranged before her.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around, his own hand going for the dagger in his belt.

Oswald held his hands up, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I tried to warn you."

Ed let his own hands fall to his sides, glancing between Oswald and the bloody scene behind him.

"You did," he admitted quietly.

Oswald swallowed hard, staring at him but offering no more insight into his thoughts.

Finally Ed regained control of his muscles and guided himself towards the table, drawing out one of the nearest chairs and sinking into it, even taking half a second to appreciate the build of it.

Oswald approached cautiously, lowering himself slowly into the seat opposite Ed's.

"Are you okay?" Oswald asked.

"Fine."

"Ah."

Ed's thoughts swirled around him. Oswald was a dangerous man. He'd slaughtered his step-mother and probably his step-siblings as well. But then again, they'd deserved it. Should Ed call for his guards? Run? But he couldn't deny the pull he'd felt towards this man the previous night, nor how seeing what he was capable of only seemed to increase his draw.

"Would you..."

"Would I what?" Oswald pounced on the words, a sort of desperation glimmering in both his tone and eyes.

"Would you tell me... what happened?"

Oswald sat back, surprised, "You want to know what happened?"

"What changed your mind? And how did you do it? And how did you feel?"

Oswald blinked, before a slow smile, intimate in nature yet not at all as soft and gentle as the last one he'd given Ed, crept across his face.

"Of course, your Highness."

~ ~ ~

_**The Previous Night...** _

Oswald bade the rather crass knight goodbye and rushed inside, collapsing onto his bed the moment he reached his room. He knew he needed to hurry, but he wanted one last moment to savor what had been his happiest night since his father was still alive. For one night he'd been almost normal, he'd been _someone_. Not to mention the way Ed had felt in his arms, as if he belonged there. Or the way Ed had blushed at compliments, the way he'd smiled at him like Oswald had somehow made him _happy_. A ridiculous notion, he knew, but where was the harm in indulging? If he really let his imagination run, he could pretend their connection, their _kindred spirits_ , existed beyond his own mind. It was a nice thought.

Soon enough he dragged himself up, changing out of the beautiful clothes he'd been given and replacing them with more of the servant's rags Grace had given him. He raced to the kitchen, preparing late night drinks and snacks in the hopes of placating them.

But try as he might he couldn't find the mulled wine. It wasn't where it was supposed to be, so he began to rummage through drawers and cabinets, coming up blank. When he reached the last drawer in the kitchen he groaned to find it filled with nothing but linen. He dropped his hand in defeat, cursing when it hit something hard.

Confused, he drew out the linens, gasping when he saw the decanter hidden beneath them. He knew this...

It was the decanter his father had drunk from before he'd died, the last time _he'd_ indulged himself in this life. He remembered it being knocked to the ground. Yet here it was, still with a bit of alcohol inside. Alcohol, he recalled, that had originally been offered to himself.

He frowned suddenly.

No.

It couldn't be.

It was too cruel.

His suspicions growing by the moment, Oswald called down the family's guard dog. Just being in the same room with it made him nervous, after the number of times Sasha or Charles had ordered it to chase him for their own amusement, or thrown his dinner to it when he'd displeased them.

Taking one of the delicate plates Grace adored so much from a cupboard and setting it on the ground, Oswald poured the alcohol out.

"Drink up," he urged the dog, who obeyed. At first, the dog sat there, watching him, and Oswald sighed. So he'd been wrong.

And then the dog twitched. It twitched again. The spasms looked so familiar, and Oswald's mind felt like it had finally fallen into it's proper place. He left the dog to a death that he knew from experience would be quick and set about plotting.

His objections to avenging himself were at last removed. He was no longer alone - the prince would back his claim. And his father would forgive him for killing his own murderers, _surely_ he would.

The sound of the door opening reached his ears and he felt his face melt into the old sadistic smile he'd once worn while haggling in the marketplace for his mother.

Tonight _would_ be a night to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves for the fairy-tale ending tomorrow & the epilogue on Sunday


	8. To Destroy, To Transform, To Rise Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed finally gets around to the reason for his visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, my attempt at sappiness  
> Enjoy!

"Grace was furious with me, of course, and she demanded I head to town immediately, despite the late hour, and get the supplies I would need to prepare a roast for supper. It was the most ridiculous task, considering the dinner provided at the castle was more than enough to satisfy anyone. Supper ought to have been a light snack at best. I, however, had other plans."

Oswald sneered in contempt at the mere memory of his step-family's stupidity. He gave a rather judgemental snort at the recollection of Sasha's and Charles' faces as they transformed from irritation to confusion to abject terror. In the end, they'd been too spoiled to know how to put up a fight. It had been over almost too fast for his taste (pun _very much_ intended) and he was only spared his own disappointment by the thought of what was yet to come.

Ed was leaning forward now, hands folded under his chin as he eagerly awaited the gruesome conclusion of Oswald's tale, his excitement a reflection of what Oswald had felt earlier, like the moon reflecting the light of the sun after it had set yet with a far more _delectable_ darkness about him.

"Yes?" he prompted. Oswald licked his lips, glancing at the food on the table, "It was late by the time the feast was ready. Not quite sunrise, but only a few hours before. I called Grace down, and she inquired as to the absence of Sasha and Charles. I assured her that they were ready to eat and she'd see them soon," he broke off in a chuckle, "Ironically, I think that _did_ placate her."

He adopted a distraught look, almost pleading, as he continued, "I presented her with two magnificent roasts, and would you believe she told me they were both tough? I assured her the second was more tender, and she refused to concede."

Ed deduced where the tale was headed and felt a smirk at his own lips. He played along, "Would you like me to officially declare her position wrong?"

"Only if you want," Oswald gestured at the roasts, "I've heard there can be health risks so I wouldn't be offended by _your_ refusal."

"That's very sweet of you," Ed replied softly, "We'll see how I'm feeling after you finish your tale."

"Okay," he nodded, "Well Grace didn't need to worry about her health anymore, so I made sure she dug in. After awhile, she inquired again about Sasha and Charles. I remember the look on her face when I told her that they'd been at the table all along," he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, the way a person might savor their favorite candle, _"Now you will know how it is in hell._ It was _delicious_ , Ed, all that _fear_ and _disgust_ and _oh!_ the self-loathing. It was pure ecstasy."

He chuckled, quickly devolving into a cackle at the memory.

"It felt _amazing_."

Ed's own smirk had widened into a more genuine smile as he watched Oswald revel in his crimes. _God_ but he was gorgeous. Without thinking, he reached out a hand and wrapped his long fingers delicately around Oswald's where they lay on the table.

Oswald immediately broke off, eyes snapping back to Ed's as he remembered who he was talking to. His bravado faltered as he asked, "Are you going to have me executed?"

Ed halted, eyes searching Oswald's face for a clue, _something_ that would explain his question, "No? Why would I?"

"Because I murdered three people in cold blood?" Oswald asked slowly, like he was speaking to a child. Well, in tone, not in content.

"Don't be absurd," Ed waved the hand that wasn't holding Oswald's, "The official stance is that these _thieves and murderers_ were deceiving the entire kingdom, even posing a threat to myself as they sought to manipulate and then kill me - whether they were or not is irrelevant - and they abused the very man they robbed. You killed them in self defense after they attempted to end you for seeking out my help in regaining your inheritance."

"And the fact that I cooked two of them?"

"Who said anyone needed to see the bodies? They don't deserve proper burials according to the law anyway, we can dump them anywhere and all of Gotham will look the other way."

Oswald let out a breath, sagging in his chair as his grip on Ed's hand tightened.

"You're heaven sent, my friend."

Ed blushed, ducking his head, unused to compliments in which the bestow-er actually _meant_ them.

Suddenly Oswald sat up again, "What business did you have here, anyway?"

"Oh," Ed withdrew the scroll, "I made a decree to return your inheritance to you. Not that you need it anymore."

"Oh. Thank you."

"And," Ed bit his lip, "Something else."

Oswald glanced at him, questioning.

"I," Ed swallowed when his voice cracked on the word, "My parents held that ball to give me one last chance to find a suitable partner of my _own_ choosing before they fell back on... on... on selling me to the highest bidder, so to speak. Using me to solidify an alliance or gain in wealth by arranging my marriage to whosoever offered them the most.

I had given up all hope long ago, when the girl I'd fallen in love with as a teenager was killed because of me. Anyone my parents would have approved of was dull or hateful. They wanted me for my power and despised me for, well, me. I was mocked for being awkward, for preferring books to combat, and there has always been something about me that unsettles people. Even my own parents abhor being alone in a room with me. My sister shares this, but she is infinitely more charismatic than I.

Oswald, you are the first person to ever accept my flaws. I put you in danger because of my clumsiness, injured you even, and I annoyed you with my riddles and ramblings, and - _oh_ , I'm doing it again, aren't I?

What I mean to say is, I've only known you for one day, but that's more than I've known anyone else my parents might have me wed, and I feel drawn to you in a way I cannot explain. So, if you are willing, I would have you for a husband."

He'd kept his head lowered throughout the entirety of his speech and only after the room had fallen silent did he risk looking up. Oswald was gaping at him, disbelief radiating from his entire body.

"You cannot be serious?"

"Why not?"

"I just - You - But - "

"I assure you Oswald, I am perfectly serious. If you aren't interested, I understand completely, and I respect that. But I had to ask because you are _my_ last chance at happiness and I am selfish and afraid, so very afraid, of who my parents would choose," his voice shook as he uttered the last sentence, hands trembling with it. He took measured breaths to ward of the panic he'd felt the night before. He wouldn't, he _couldn't_ , he'd -

"Of course."

His head shot up again, "What?"

"Of course I'll accept you. Not only would I be a fool to refuse, I concur. There is something drawing us together and my mother always told me to listen to instincts like that. Besides, I am utterly and completely _fascinated_ by your reactions today. I would love the chance to further acquaint myself with a mind like yours."

Ed released a shaky breath, a weak smile returning, "You mean it?"

Oswald's earlier confidence seemed to return as well as he took control of the situation, "Yes, I mean it. I would like nothing better. Now why don't we get rid of these bodies like you suggested and then you can introduce me to your family."

Some of the tension reappeared at this and Ed frowned, "Trust me, you won't like my parents. They would have liked _her_ ," he nodded at Grace's corpse.

Oswald raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Ah."

"And unfortunately it would be significantly harder to dump _their_ bodies in the river without anyone caring."

Oswald couldn't stop himself from snorting at that, "I suppose not. That doesn't mean you have to put up with them, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Easy. _Destroy them_. Between your brains and my manipulative abilities, who could stop us? We'll rule Gotham, side by side, and soon there will be none who dare to challenge us. To laugh at us. And if anyone is foolish enough to try, we'll gut them," Oswald's words wove a beautiful tapestry around Ed and he sighed happily, "Would you really do that for me?"

"Well," Oswald had made his way around the table, pulling Ed to his feet, "it's not as if I'm not getting anything out of it, but yes, I would."

"Thank you."

"Not at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus Prince Charming finds himself, rather than saving a penguin in distress, _being_ saved by a knight in bloody armor...
> 
> Also, I much prefer Ed & Oswald when they're destroying _other people_ (particularly if they're doing it together) rather than each other


	9. A Messenger Departs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Approximately 10 years later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise to get back to everyone who commented asap but my internet has been really touch-and-go today, and I figured you'd all appreciate the epilogue more
> 
> For one last hurrah,  
> Enjoy!

"Your Majesties, the palace is ready to be occupied once more," the messenger bowed from the doorway. Oswald glanced at her. She'd been working for them for a few months now and had shown true spirit.

"What is your name?"

Ed glanced over at him from where he lounged by the fire, watching the exchange with curiosity.

"Ivy Pepper, Your Majesty."

"Ivy, how would you feel about a promotion? We could use someone like you - someone with creativity, initiative, and a willingness to try almost anything. How would you feel about leading our newest project?"

Ed sat up, peering over the couch to study the girl more closely.

"Do you think she's really capable?"

"I do," Oswald mused, "I see potential in her. So what do you say, Ivy?"

"What's it about?"

"Hmm?"

"The project? What's it's about?"

"Oh, that," Oswald waved a hand, "We've decided to build our own private spy network. The guards can be so tiresome sometimes. And you're never quite sure about their loyalty. Not to people like us."

"You want me to be a spy?"

"Among other things. I've heard you have quite a knack for potion-making."

"You could say that."

"Then are you interested?"

"Sure. When do I start?"

Oswald shrugged, "As soon as Ed finishes organizing the paperwork, or whatever he insists needs to happen. We'll find you when we need you."

"Cool," she replied, before picking up on the dismissal and leaving.

"So, my dear, are you ready to see our new home?"

"I love yours almost as much as I do you," Ed grinned at him, "But I'd also love to see just what they've done with the palace. Lighting it on fire was certainly effective. My parents hated having to choose between a burned out shell and temporary accommodations. Lucky for me, you had such a charming place already. It's a real pity there wouldn't have been space for the rest of the royal family... Besides, now that they're dead we can design it the way _we_ want."

"You are so right," Oswald smiled back, conspiratorially.

"And," Ed said, slipping an arm around his shoulders and leaning down to whisper in his ear, "I made a few modifications when you weren't looking. I've got a surprise for you."

Oswald's eyes widened, "You tricky bastard. Should I be nervous?"

" _I_ don't see why you should be," Ed muttered, mock offended, before he leaned down even further to peck a kiss Oswald's temple, "I rather think you'll enjoy it."

"Well then," Oswald replied, failing to hide how pleased he was at the attention, "Good. Good."

~ ~ ~

They took a gold-gilded carriage with far too much room and far too many horses, adorned with green silk curtains and purple velvet cushions. The procession drew crowds from the city, people clamoring to see their Kings. Oswald basked in the attention and even Ed found he liked it.

Finally the carriage rolled to a halt before the fully repaired palace and Ed practically bounded out in order to offer his hand to his husband. Oswald laughed at him, but there was no malice behind it as he accepted the offer and refused to release the proffered hand upon reaching solid ground.

He gave Ed the soft smile that Ed had come to adore above all else. His heart fluttered at the sight of it and from the anticipation of Oswald's reaction to his surprise. Gently, he tugged on Oswald's hand to urge him inside.

Servants drew the large doors open for them, standing back and bowing low as they passed. Oswald gave the entry hall an appreciative once-over, waiting to see where Ed would inevitably drag him.

Ed guided him towards the doors on the right - the throne room, if he recalled, and waited while these doors, too, were drawn open before them.

Oswald gasped as soon as he set foot inside. The change was evident.

Prior to the fire, the throne room had consisted of a large golden throne at the end of a long red carpet. Tall chairs had flanked the throne for any high-ranking people who may be accompanying the king to court on any given day. Soldiers stood as still as suits of armor around the hall, ready to defend their king from any possible threat.

Now, though, the throne room had been completely redone. The carpet had been replaced with a purple one, a green swirl patterning it with Ed's favorite shapes. Wooden benches filled much of the hall, allowing waiting petitioners a place to sit. But the thing to which Oswald's eyes were immediately drawn was the second throne situated beside the first, identical in all but color.

He turned to Ed, eyebrows raised.

Ed smiled his own intimate smile at him, eyes bright, "We're equals, Oswald. I'm sick of tradition forcing us to pretend we aren't. We are the kings of Gotham, and all the world will know."

" _Oh, Ed_ ," Oswald breathed, reaching up to caress his cheek. Ed leaned into the touch, smile widening. Oswald matched it with his own, leaning forward to kiss him but before he did, he whispered, "You have no idea how much I love you."

He poured the feeling into the kiss, all of his passion and affection for the other man translating into touch. Ed melted into him and when they eventually broke apart he sighed back, "Almost as much as I love you, I'm sure."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived happily ever after...
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented throughout & thank you to anyone finding this in my future (your present). I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you did, keep an eye out in case I decide to write some of the events between chapters 8 & 9 (in particular the wedding & the revenge plotting, as well as some other, longer stories that I discarded while planning this one) 
> 
> Some of my other projects (bear in mind that I tend to start more than I finish) include a Hogwarts AU (collab), a Pride & Prejudice AU, some High School ones, and a vampire crack!fic, all Nygmobblepot. When I get around to watching the first half of s3 you can expect a passive-aggressive crack!fic about Isabella. For those of you who read my Eurovision-inspired fic for Grab the Moment, I'm also working on some sequels to that. I don't know which will come next, but I hope to see you there
> 
> Until then, Fare thee well, find me @singtheskyandfightlikehell on tumblr, & feel free to message me!


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